Rhythm rides the rocket

Published By COLUMBIA PUBLICATIONS, Inc. 60 HUDSON STREET New York, N.Y.

Printed in the U.S.A.

Having piloted the Spaceship Goddard through that perilous zone of pelting planetoids and ghostly derelicts which make the region between Mars and Jupiter a nerve-wracking nightmare for space-pilots, Captain Timothy Verger felt an urgent need for rest and relaxation. Turning the controls over to Alphonse LeDoux, the regular Interplanetary Company's pilot, he opened the door which led to the main cabin.

On the threshold he paused and gingerly inhaled a disgusted sniff. The place reeked--not that Captain Verger was particularly squeamish about odors. A veteran space-flyer does not expect the interior of a rocket-ship to smell like a spruce forest. The sensations which offended Verger's nostrils were not exactly unpleasant--but they certainly did not belong in an interplanetary freighter. They were feminine smells--the mingled fragrance of talcum powder, cold cream and perfume. And if the odors were incongruous, the sights and the sounds which accompanied them were even more so.

The cabin was crowded with women. There must have been at least twenty of them, ranging in ages from eighteen to twenty-five. All of them were playing lustily on horns, clarinettes and other musical instruments.

"Of all the unheard-of things!" Verger thought as he ducked beneath the flare of an enormous tuba and sidestepped to avoid the sudden thrust of a trombone slide. "A band rehearsal in the space-lanes, a million miles from nowhere--and a female band at that!"

Squeezing between the compactly grouped musicians, Verger could not help brushing against the elbow of the bass-drummer. She was somewhat older than the others--perhaps thirty, he guessed. Although she was not exactly what a television scout would call glamorous, she was the kind of girl who would interest almost any man except a middle-aged, chronic woman-hater like Verger. Framed in a cloud of wavy red hair, her full red lips, pert nose and humorous eyes told an eloquent story of wholesome good nature.

As Verger slid past her, mumbling an inaudible apology, she flashed a white-toothed smile at him, shocking him with a deliberate brazen wink. Though he tried to look stern and indifferent, he had to smile back at her in spite of himself.

Opening the door of the men's stateroom, Verger gave a cursory greeting to Professor Anderson, who was seated before a small bench which he had rigged up in one corner of the cramped quarters. He was working on a peculiar contraption which looked like a small horn attached to a strange jumble of coils and tubes. Knowing that Anderson was an inventor as well as a composer and music-teacher, Verger assumed that the device was some new kind of band instrument.

Weary and nervous, the pilot crawled into his hammock and attempted to relax. It was a difficult task. Hard as he tried, he could not shake off the feeling of tense anxiety which disturbed and tormented him.

"There's nothing to worry about," he tried to assure himself. "LeDoux is an experienced pilot with almost as many space hours to his credit as I have."

Nevertheless Captain Verger couldn't squeeze from his mind the thought that the safety of this ship with its three men and its twenty women depended on him and on him alone.

In the hope of clearing up certain matters which puzzled him, Verger began talking to Anderson.

"Would you mind giving me the low-down on this crazy voyage?" he asked.

Anderson countered with, "Do you mean to say you don't know why you are here?"

"Frankly, I don't," the Captain admitted. "My orders simply directed me to report to the Earth Republic spaceport on Mars and to pilot the space-freighter Goddard with a cargo of supplies for the thermolium mines on Ganymede. It was somewhat surprising for me to find out most of the so-called 'supplies' were female bipeds and peck-horns stained with lipstick."